Clouds in my Coffee
by Forever Day
Summary: He was a boy. She was a girl. Can I make it any more obvious? / Holly Short is an overworked, underpaid barista at Root's hipster coffee shop. Artemis Fowl the Second is a reluctant student in search of "proper" coffee. Cue the Coffee Shop AU.


**Because the fact that the Artemis Fowl fandom does not have a Coffee Shop AU is just unacceptable.**

 **(Also, Artemis is a total cheeseball in this but let's just pretend that in this universe he had a slightly better childhood and had a bit more game because of it.)**

* * *

 **Clouds in my Coffee ( _Coffee Shop Captivation_ )**

Holly was wiping down the counters when he first walked in. It was the ghost hour in the shop, the morning madness a distant memory and, with only a few regulars and half-crazed students with their triple shot expressos and next-day deadlines warming the seats, the bell jangling caused her head to jerk up.

She was used to snap judgements; the mothers with young children who wanted a chat, the late-for-class students who just wanted to get in, get coffee and get out, the groups of giggling teens who didn't really like coffee but were going to keep coming back until they did. Businessman, she decided. Nice suit, smart briefcase, looked stressed and irritable. She stopped her cleaning, put on her blandest smile, and prepared for the inevitable Starbucks order in a tone that said that they were the ones doing you the favour.

"One large certified organic Viennese blend, to take in."

No please and a voice that spoke of a private education on Daddy's money- she had been right. Still, he had excellent taste in coffee. "Coming right up, Sir," she said, and turned to begin the roasting process. Before he left to find a seat, she couldn't help but say, "Good choice. Most people just ask me for a venti non-fat caramel Frappuccino or something."

For the first time during the conversation his annoyed expression relaxed slightly, to be replaced by an expression that was approaching handsome. "I assure you, I am not most people," he said.

Holly raised one eyebrow, looking at him over the machine. "Is that so?" she said.

He inclined his head in a nod, but a smile was tugging at his lips.

The coffee took a while to brew (as any proper coffee should) but she received a glance up from what looked like a very expensive laptop, and a sincere thank you, and, despite herself, Holly's interest was piqued.

* * *

Artemis Fowl the second was not in a good mood. He'd spent all day in lectures he could've taught (and far better, he might add). He'd emerged to find that the director he'd left in charge had managed to royally screw up a crucial transaction she'd been entrusted to in his absence. He'd then walked at least two blocks in search of a decent cup of coffee, only to end up smiling at a pretty waitress like an infatuated teenage.

The coffee, however, was excellent.

* * *

The man in the suit was back the next evening at the same time.

"Not-Most-People, what will you have tonight?"

A half smile appeared on his face, just the one side turning up into a little smirk. "Teton blend tonight, please."

"I approve," said Holly, and this time he did smile properly, a handsome, cocky, almost boyish smile appearing out of nowhere. It was incredible how much younger it made him look. That one smile transformed his face from cynical man in mid-twenties to someone who could be just out of high school.

(I had two half minute conversations with him and I am now waxing lyrical about his smile, thought Holly. I really need to get out more.)

* * *

(By the end of that week Holly was waxing lyrical about a lot more than his smile. She was starting to develop a Pavlov's dog-style conditioned response to the bell).

* * *

(Artemis was drinking more coffee than ever before. He was half disgusted with himself, half impressed with how much he was getting done).

* * *

"Your usual, Not-Most-People?"

"Artemis."

"What?"

"My name is Artemis."

"Oh, we're on first name basis already?"

"Well, _Holly Short Barista_ , I thought it only fair."

"What- Oh. Well, nice to properly meet you, _Artemis_. Your usual?"

"If you would be so kind, Holly."

* * *

"Where have you been the past few evenings? Every time I bring tomorrow's meals over you're not here."

Artemis looked slightly guiltily at Butler. "I found a coffee shop, small, privately owned. It does excellent coffee. I've been doing some work there in the evenings."

Understanding dawned in Butler's eyes. "She must be quite something," he said with a grin, and Artemis's cheeks had coloured before he could duck to hide them.

* * *

It had been a long day. Scratch that, it had been a long week, month, three years. You didn't work from dawn to dusk on minimum wage with Root as your boss trying to scrape together enough money to get you through Police Academy without feeling a little down some days.

But this had been a particularly harsh one. She been yelled at (courtesy of Root), had hot coffee thrown at her (courtesy of a customer) and spat on (courtesy of both Root and customer, but only one had been accidental). She'd also discovered that morning that the reason her electricity bill hadn't been coming through for the past six months was because her neighbour (who was extremely old, partially sighted and more than a little deaf) had been accidentally taking in her bill as well his own. Unfortunately, his son who did the bills for him had been binning the 'wrongly addressed' bill (or something, it had been hard to understand his not-very apologetic apology without his dentures in) and Holly had not noticed the bill's absence. So now, she had been hit with a six month energy bill which would vacuum up all the meagre savings she had in one fell swoop.

So. Not a good day.

The bell jangled and in walked a welcome sight after the train wreck that her day had been.

"Hello, Holly."

"Hey, Artemis. The usual?"

"Er, yes." Something in her face must have spoken of the day she'd been through because he added, "Are you all right?"

She blamed it on her day, but against her wishes her stomach did a tiny little swoop at his concern. "It's been a long day," she said, with a what-can-you-do shrug.

"I see." A pause. "What baked good would you recommend?"

Holly looked down at the line of various pastries, cakes and cookies. He had never seemed particularly interested in them before, but there was a fresh batch of brownies that she knew were Simply the Best. "I can vouch for the triple-chocolate brownies," she said. "Death by chocolate, but _so_ worth it."

"I'll take one, thank you."

She made his coffee and wrapped the brownie, but when she got to the table he slid the brownie across the table back at her. "For you," he said, looking almost shy, "I hope your day improves."

Holly was momentarily speechless with appreciation for the smoothness of the gesture. "Seriously?" she said, then when he nodded (turns out bashful was a cute look on him) "Thank you! Really you have no idea how nice this is, today has just been _the worst_ and it's just so sweet of you and—" She was suddenly aware that she was babbling, and then it was her turn to colour. She picked up the parcel of gooey deliciousness and prepared to leave. " _Thank you_ ," she said seriously, and then levelled him a smile that was, unbeknownst to her, at least doubly as sweet as the baked good she currently held in her hand.

* * *

 _That was the most idiotic, ridiculous, embarrassing thing I have ever done_ thought Artemis. _I am never taking advice from Juliet ever again. And yet that smile…_

He spent three days drinking off his embarrassment in the neighbourhood Starbucks before that smile drew him back. Also, the excellent coffee.

* * *

He became one of Holly's regulars, like the writer in the corner and the elderly couple whose daily treat was their frothy coffees. He was there most weekday nights, with a fancy coffee order and a clever comment. It was nice. Something to look forward to at the end of a long shift when her feet were aching and her eyes were starting to go gritty with tiredness.

* * *

Another evening. The door jangles. In walks Artemis, sharp suit and briefcase. So far, so normal. However, for the first time he appeared to have company. And by company, Holly meant a small giant.

He was built like a tank, and the pre-emptive duck at the doorway told you all you needed to know about his height (But, honestly, the man looked like he was easily heading for seven feet tall). He also had the look of someone who carried vast amounts of concealed weaponry and internal rage (she lived in a rough neighbourhood, okay? She was saving up for a place that didn't have semi-regular knife fights but it took _time_ on minimum wage).

Holly, herself on the short side of petite, had to crane her neck when he got to the counter, Artemis by his side.

"Hi, what can I do for you today?" Holly asked, surreptitiously eyeing a metal coffee pot as a potential weapon. The giant stranger simply stared at her intently, apparently not needing to blink.

However Holly had Root for a boss, a position which required immunity to the hairy eyeball, and when it became clear that he was going to remain in perfect silence, she simply turned to Artemis and asked, "Your usual?"

"Yes please." His voice was a little strained, but understandably so with the silent mountain standing next to him. Maybe he was being held hostage? Even criminals need a coffee break mid-job. Although he did look more embarrassed than terrified.

While the coffee was brewing, she asked Artemis, "What will your friend have?"

The giant frowned slightly, his face giving the impression of a piece of granite shifting. "I'll take a black coffee."

Wow, his voice was deep. Think thunder at close range.

"Any particular blend? We use Arabica beans and–"

"I have no preference."

"All right then." Holly had pretty much perfected the art of smile-like-you're-in-a-dentures-advert-and-get-on-with-it but even that performance was a little strained with Gigantes staring her down.

* * *

It had been ten minutes and Goliath in the corner had not stopped staring at her. She had got on with her job, cleaning up round the machines, tidying and restocking their display, but was all the time aware of this penetrating, unblinking gaze. It was a little disconcerting to say the least.

Eventually, she had had enough. She placed her cloth down, and headed for their table. "Is everything all right over here?" she asked, looking directly at El Creepo.

"Yes!" Artemis answered a little too vehemently, while his companion's (kidnapper's?) facial expression did not change. At all. There wasn't even a twitch.

"Oh, sorry I thought you were trying to catch my attention?"

Her whole body was directed towards the man, there was no doubt in anyone's mind to whom she was addressing the statement, but again Artemis replied. "No, no, it's fine. He is simply… he has social issues."

He could say that again. For the first time the man mountain's expression shifted, a tiny frown being directed at Artemis, and Holly suddenly got the distinct impression that this was not someone she wanted to anger.

"Well, enjoy your coffee then, Sir," she said cheerily, and turned to leave. Suddenly the man shifted.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

"Yes?" She wasn't overly fond of being referred to as 'miss' but the frown was still on his face, and she wasn't going to argue.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Er, just over a year."

"Why did you start?"

"I needed some money?" Why did most people start working customer service minimum wage jobs?

"Is this your career goal?"

What? Was this anyone's career goal? "No…"

"What do your future career plans consist of?"

Excuse me? What was this, twenty questions meet job interview? "I want to go into recon with the police..."

The man paused to raise an eyebrow at Artemis. Artemis was steadily looking at the ceiling.

"How do you know this gentleman?" He pointed at Artemis, who was still pointedly Not Looking at their exchange.

"He… buys coffee here?" Holly was beginning to have had enough of this giant's questions. Also, she wasn't sure how comfortable she was giving out her life history to a stranger, especially one that looked like he just came from a WWL match.

"How well do you know him?"

"I know his coffee order a lot better than I know him, if that answers the question. But Sir, I have to get back-"

"Answer me this—"

"If this is another question about the gentleman besides you I suggest you ask him. Otherwise, I have to get back to work."

There was a brief staring contest, Holly's hazel eyes meeting steel grey bullets. Neither wavered, and by the end even Holly (who seemed to spend most of her life on the receiving end of one of Roots legendary stares) was starting to feel the strain.

Suddenly the man smiled, granite face immediately softening. "A pleasure to meet you, Barista Short."

"I- er, nice to meet you?" Well, what would you say to a strange man who looked like he broke necks for a living? She was brave, but not stupidly antagonistic (well, most of the time).

"Butler," he supplied with smile.

"Yes, er, nice to meet you Butler."

"This coffee really is excellent," he said. Holly's eyes flicked to Artemis who was running a hand over his face.

"Uh, good?" she said. "Enjoy the rest of it."

"Oh, I will," the man said, again with the smile.

Holly walked away, thoroughly confused but feeling like she had somehow managed to pass a test she wasn't aware she was taking.

* * *

"And that was necessary precisely why, Butler?"

"A little embarrassment is good for you every now and again. Also, I wanted to see what the girl who had you drinking more coffee than you've ever done before was made of."

"I told you, it's not like that."

"I approve, by the way."

" _Butler."_

 _..._

"Thank you."

* * *

A week or two later he came in unusually early and trailed by more new faces. Two small boys, same height, same naughty expression but one was fair while the other was dark.

"Are you ever to be found outside this establishment?" Artemis asked her in lieu of greeting. "I'm not complaining, mind," he said with a smile, "just curious."

Holly shrugged. "A girl's got to pay her way through education somehow. Who are these two?"

"Beckett and Myles, my younger brothers," he said, the fond smile that was directed towards them rapidly changed into a frown as he saw the blond Beckett fingering the cookies. "Beckett, you can't touch what we're not going to purchase."

"Then you had better buy it for me," Beckett said with a saintly grin that left Holly in no doubt that that had been the original intention.

"Played by your little brothers," she said to Artemis, shaking her head. "What is the world coming to?"

Artemis smiled ruefully. "It's tragic, truly. May I take two of those cookies, one flat white coffee, and, what would you like boys?"

"Espresso!" Beckett said immediately.

"One large cappuccino," Myles requested.

"You know that neither or you are allowed caffeine after the three-days-no-sleep incident," Artemis said. "How about a smoothie?"

Sensing an imminent protest, Holly cut in. "You know boys," she said. "There is a _secret_ menu that I only give to my favourite customers." Two pairs of big eyes swivelled to meet hers. "How about something that will keep your big brother happy and still be the best hot drink you've ever tasted?"

The boys looked at each other, came to mutual agreement, and looked back at Holly. "…Okay."

"Okay, _please_ ," said Artemis, and shot Holly a grateful smile (her stomach needed to chill with the swooping thing already). "Now go pick a table- _no, not one by the toilets- BECKETT."_

Holly watched them go with an indulgent smile, as she prepared their from-real-chocolate hot chocolates with caramel and vanilla swirls, proper cream, froth, flakes and a generous heaping of marshmallows which was, if she did say so herself, the most delicious thing ever.

(Their froth moustaches topped the 'dachshund-puppy-in-handbag' for cutest thing in the shop that week.)

* * *

He was in next Monday, as usual. "Is there any chance I can have what you gave the twins on Saturday?" he asked.

"That depends," Holly said.

"Oh?"

"On whether or not you qualify for 'favourite customer' status."

"Well since you are my favourite barista, the least courtesy you can do me is to return the favour."

"I'm your _only_ barista," Holly said, but the butterflies were back and the hot chocolate was on his table a few minutes later.

* * *

A week or so later and Artemis interrupted their little evening routine by asking for a chocolate croissant to accompany his coffee. Going by her previous experiences of him and baked goods she was more than a little disappointed when he took it back to his table to consume (what? It wasn't a brownie, but croissants were not bad at _all_ ).

But then she found a number written on his napkin and a note that said 'I'd offer you coffee but I think you already have enough of that. Would you accept dinner in lieu?"

It was corny and cheesy and she texted him yes.

* * *

Their first date took place on a Tuesday night, and Holly had put on one of the two dresses she owned, kitten heels and eyeliner, and if he didn't appreciate the effort she'd lace his coffee with salt next time. (If this went badly would there even be a next time? She wondered, and it made her oddly sad to think of never seeing her smart-mouthed customer again.)

Still, he arrived on time and said all the appropriate things about her appearance and had a really nice car and didn't drive too fast (admittedly, his driving skills were a little iffy and there was a brief moment when he nearly hit two different bollards and a small dog while trying to park, but bad parallel parking was a forgivable offence).

Then the restaurant was the right level of fancy, and he pulled her chair out for her, and the conversation flowed easily, and he told her about his university and his family and his giant friend who'd apparently half-raised him and then she told him about the Police Academy and when she mentioned the deaths of her parents in passing he was sympathetic without being pitying.

Then he'd driven her home and kissed her goodbye on her doorstep and it was a bit embarrassing to admit but it was pretty much the most perfect date she'd ever been on.

* * *

"Artemis, you're smiling."

"Is there a point to your inane comments on my facial expressions?"

"It's getting a bit excessive, I'm beginning to get concerned for your sanity."

"I assure you, I am perfectly sane. Life is simply going fairly well at the moment."

"Right."

…

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain barista would it?'

…

"I'm certain I have no idea as to whom you are referring."

* * *

Now that they were... well, it wasn't quite official but it was something, Holly had been expecting that he'd stop frequenting the shop, or at least cut down his time sipping lattes there. So she'd resigned herself to a long evening of old regulars and the odd new customer with no half-sly-half-boyish smile to brighten it when, at his usual time, the bell jangled and in he walked. (Her stomach did a literal flip-flop. It was ridiculous and she studiously pretended it hadn't).

"I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon," she said, a stupidly large smile on her face (she couldn't stop it, okay? It was truly woeful).

"Well the coffee is excellent and the service not bad at all," he said, answering her smile with one that she was pleased to note was as large as her own. Then he held up her coat. "Additionally, you left this garment in my car last night."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, thank you," she said, reaching across the counter to retrieve the coat she did not have the money to replace. How had she not missed it? (Oh right, last night he'd had his arm around her and this morning she'd ridden in to work walking on air) "But you didn't need to come over, I could've ridden over after work to pick it up."

"Well it's become something of a habit," he said with a self-deprecating grin. "It also gave me the opportunity to ask you in person if you were interested in coming with me to an art exhibition with me this Friday evening."

Holly half-wished that he had ordered first so that she could pretend to be busy and let him sweat a little bit. Instead she dipped her head to hide a goofy grin and said, "I'd like that." Then, "Your usual?"

"That would be lovely, thank you. I will pick you up at seven if that suits you?"

She dipped her head again. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

As it was wont to do, Friday took forever to come and yet came too soon. She was wearing the other one of her two dresses (their next date better take place somewhere less smart or he would soon discover the limited extent of her wardrobe) (Wait, next date? Slow down there girly) and the same pair of kitten heels.

She'd been stumped as to what constituted appropriate apparel for an art gallery (the boys that usually took her out were mostly of the ilk that believed that Nandos was a fancy dining establishment. Not that she didn't love sweet potato fries as much as the next girl, but it wasn't exactly The Ritz) but she figured she couldn't go wrong with a little black dress. (Or something. If she was honest, her primary source of date related information was magazines she'd read in the waiting room of the doctor and dentist. She didn't have the money or desire for a Glam subscription, okay? Or any properly close female friends for that matter, unless you counted Lilli, which she wasn't particularly keen on doing.) Still, as she looked at herself in her dusty mirror she felt pleased enough with the result. Also, anything had to be an improvement on her work uniform (aprons made for six foot men did nothing for her. Except get her the odd extra tip when she tripped over the hem and a customer felt sorry for her).

As it happened the compliments he bestowed on the outfit when he rang the doorbell at exactly seven were enough to warm her all the way to her core. (Although rang the doorbell was a bit of an exaggeration. The doorbell hadn't actually ever worked and her landlord maintained that Duty of Care was a myth, so her answering the door mostly involved looking out the window and trying to time the opening of it correctly.)

The drive to the art gallery was equally pleasant (minus a slightly hairy moment with a white van and red light). They chatted amicably about their respective days and it seemed like no time at all before they were drawing up to a non-descript building in the nicer part of Dublin. Artemis found a parking space a short distance away and under a lamp post, then cursed softly under his breath as he hit the curb. Three times. Holly was a little disgusted with herself for finding his parking inability so endearing.

Still, they made it into the gallery in good time for the seven thirty start, Holly trailing after Artemis, a little unsure of herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in any sort gallery or museum. Her mum used to take her to all the places when she was younger, back when she had still had enough strength to be out and about, and speak enthusiastically about colours and symbolism and how the artist had managed to capture the moment... Holly had never been majorly into analysing art, especially not as a hyperactive child who thought staying still for more than a moment a waste of life, but thinking about standing in a quiet room full of paintings brought back a whoosh of memories and she was blinking back wetness from her eyes before she knew it. She felt a gentle pressure on her hand as Artemis gave it a squeeze.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking adorably awkwardly concerned.

"Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine," she replied, a little too brightly. (Well done Holly, boys love a girl who starts bawling ten minutes into their second date). "Uh, who's the artist?" she asked, casting around for an alternate topic and distraction.

"It's actually an exhibition of several up and coming artists based around the theme of renewal," he said, still looking concerned. "There are sculptures and photography as well as paintings and the like, so there's a nice mix of mediums."

"Sounds good to me," Holly said. She took a deep breath, entwined their fingers and pulled him a little closer. "Let's go in shall we?"

In the end, she had a lovely evening. Artemis seemed to know everything about every work and it was nice to just listen and let him do the talking. Sometimes, if they stood by an artwork for long enough, she could slip her arm fully through his and rest her head on his shoulder, and have his posh brogue in her ear quietly telling her about a piece and it was honestly the most content she'd felt in a long time. There was something familiar and warm over the whole evening, and she nearly fell asleep in his car on the way home, a virtually unheard of occurrence for her. (If there was one thing life had taught her, was never, ever, to relax her guard in front of a date).

He dropped her off at her door with another chaste kiss and Holly went to bed in a haze of happiness.

* * *

"Are you taking happy pills?"

"What? No, Juliet I most certainly am not."

"Does it have anything to do with a certain redhead by any chance?"

"... How do you know anything about a red head?"

"Look, a cup of tea for my bro is cheaper than a gossip mag subscription and you get far more bang for your buck. So, have you been seeing her?"

"… Perhaps. Have you mentioned a certain _James_ to your brother?"

" _Artemis_ , you are _the worst_."

"I'll presume that that means you have not. How terrible it would be if he… happened upon the information elsewhere."

" _Artemiiiiis,_ you don't play fair."

"You say that as if, after all these years, you're still surprised."

* * *

He had stopped coming as regularly to the coffee shop (Holly was the teensiest bit flattered by this apparent confirmation that he had, at least partially, been visiting for her. She was also relieved since she could now stop trying to keep her shirt spill free for the day). Now, most of their conversation took place by phone or text messages (so many text messages). Yet he still came in fairly often, one of a blur of faces in the morning rush, or after a lecture, and at his old regular time (one of these had led to her first ever snog in a storeroom. It had been wonderfully illicit). So she wasn't overly surprised when he came through the door be Thursday evening, but it did mean that she could put to him a question she'd been mulling over in person.

"Hello Sir, what can I get you?"

His smile was as wide as hers, although it was shortly succeeded by a sigh. "Something strong. I have been forced to endure a lecture on thermodynamics by the most incompetent lecturer to ever grace my university's floor."

"So we need something anti-suicidal?"

"Precisely."

She turned to start making it, before asking him, "Why don't you just skip it if it's that bad?"

Another exaggerated sigh. "I have been informed that if my lecture attendance falls any lower I will be summarily kicked out on my proverbial behind, and if that happens I will be disowned?"

"Really?" His parents hadn't sounded that bad in the anecdotes he'd related, more well-meaning than anything else.

"No, not really. It is more along the lines of I will be subjected to a long lecture from my mother about how disappointed she is and then long tear-filled accusatory gazes. I'd almost prefer disownment. At least it's over quickly and relatively painless."

Holly smiled at his theatrics, and then turned to him with her question. "I have two tickets to a hurling game this Saturday. Would you like to come?"

There was a pause. "Hurling?"

"Uh, yeah, you know, game with the sticks and ball?" Now she was unsure of herself. "I know you said you're not really into sport and stuff, but I had two tickets from a friend and I didn't really fancy going alone and-"

He cut her off (thank goodness). "No, I'd like to come with you. I just... I haven't been to a hurling match before."

"You haven't been to a hurling game before?" She stopped making his coffee to stare at him open-mouthed. "What have you been doing with your life?"

He gave a little half laugh at that. "It wasn't really something my family was ever interested in."

Holly grinned. "You, my friend, are going to have an EDUCATION," she said. "I'll pick you up at 11?"

"On your motorbike?" He sounded hesitant.

"Yup, on Priscilla." At various point in her long, long life Priscilla had been referred to as an 'Unroadworthy Wreck', 'Miracle if it Starts or Stops', and she was also a hot favourite in the 'Top Ten Most Likely to Have a Fatal Crash' betting pool at the Academy. Holly couldn't understand Artemis's apprehension.

"I will see you then. Should I, erm, bring a helmet?"

"Don't bother, I've got some spares. See you then!"

"…Yes. See you, then." He still looked a bit apprehensive.

* * *

By the time that Holly roared up outside his flat that Saturday she was feeling a bit apprehensive herself. He'd made no secret of the fact that he wasn't the world's greatest sports fan and his upper class vowels and mentions of boarding school all suggested a high probability that he had no idea of the hurly-burly of a game. Also, she'd been trying to imagine him in a team shirt and her brain had started to hurt a bit with the effort.

She herself was pretty decked out in team gear (although she had forgone the face paint in the hopes of appearing a little more normal) and she could see an old lady on the ground floor of his building peering through her lace curtains and loudly projecting the thought 'get away from my petunias you hurling hooligan'. Holly probably didn't help her case by vigorously sounding her horn. (The horn was her third favourite thing about Priscilla, the first being how close it felt to flying when she was going really, really fast and the second her ability to nip through traffic when she was inevitably late to something).

Artemis hurried out of the front door of the building looking a little harried. "You could have rung the bell," he said primly.

"Now where is the fun in that?" Holly asked. He was dressed more casually that she had ever seen him, in dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt, navy jacket still in the process of being pulled on. It was nice.

She handed him his helmet and laughed at the way his nose wrinkled at the peeling flames decorating the crown. "I could have brought the one with the pink plastic Mohican attached," she warned.

"Small mercies," he said, and then Holly was smiling fondly again as he performed _the most_ ungainly getting onto her bike she had honestly ever scene. Coordination, along with driving, did not appear to be his strong suit.

He had just managed to clamber on and utter an "Are you sure that this is sa–" before they were roaring off and there was no more conversation for some time. However, he kept his arms clenched around her the entire time (respectively placed, she was pleased to note) and it was altogether a very pleasant ride, although he seemed a little shaken as he climbed off at the other end (Well, it was more of a fall. Her poor gangly giraffe boy.) (Wait, _her_ boy?)

"That was…quite a ride," he said.

She grinned, shaking what little there was of her hair out her helmet, and not missing the way his eyes followed the movement. "You don't like going fast?"

"I didn't say that. It was quite… exhilarating."

She laughed and ruffled his hair on her way past. "Let's get inside."

He hurried after her, fixing his hair.

* * *

Inside he looked, if possible, even more out of his element. She had no idea how a T-shirt and jeans ensemble could look expensive but he'd managed it, and in the rough crowd he stuck out like Gucci handbag in a Primark superstore. She took his hand, to guide him through the crowds more than anything, but was gratified all the same when he slipped his fingers through hers.

"We've got good seats," she said. "I think Trouble was planning on impressing someone when he booked them, but work wouldn't let him off."

"Trouble?" Artemis said, then with a wicked smile, "Are you trying to impress someone with these seats?"

"What? Pfft, no, _Artemis_ ," she said, tossing her hair to hide her cheeks even as he pulled her to walk a little closer to him. "Oh, and Trouble's one of my best friends, we've known each other since we were little kids. Trouble was his nickname forever, and he got it officially changed last year."

"What was it before then?"

Holly gave him a calculating look, judging trustworthiness. "He isn't wild about people knowing it, so don't spread it around, but… Mildred. Mildred Gertrude Kelp."

"Oh?"

"His Mum wanted a girl… I didn't believe him when he told me; he had to show me his birth certificate."

"I see. I think I might be inclined to change my name if I was thus christened."

Holly hummed in emphatic agreement. "I still think that he should have chosen something a bit more respectable, for job applications if nothing else, but it was his 'name' forever and he was pretty set on it."

"I suppose he could always change it again if it became a real problem."

"I suppose, but it's a hassle. It's already a nightmare when he has to fill in official forms."

They were quiet for a bit as they made their way to their seats, then Artemis said. "I considered changing my name when I was younger."

"Oh?" she said. "I guess Greek god is a bit unusual, but it could be worse."

"Greek goddess," he corrected her.

" _Oh_ ," she said, knowingly this time. "School must have been fun."

"Mmh."

"Why didn't you change it? I could be talking to-" she dug back to a half-formed memory of a Greek Mythology class topic from her primary school years "Apollo or something right now."

"It's my father's name too," he said.

" _Oh_." A pause, "That would make things a bit awkward."

"Quite."

They sat quietly together letting the buzz of the crowd wash over them, then Holly said quietly, "I like your name."

"Ah-thank you," he said. "I, uh, like your name too."

There was a beat, and then Holly said "How do you know when to answer if someone calls for Artemis in your house?" to diffuse the six-year-olds-in-the-playground awkwardness of that moment.

"At home my father is Timmy and I'm Arty," he said.

"Arty…" Holly said, trying it out. "It's nice."

"You could, ah, call me that." A pause, "I mean, if you'd prefer to, you don't have to—"

"Arty it is," she said decisively, and then spent an embarrassing length of time smiling stupidly wide at him.

(But it was okay, because he was smiling straight back.)

And that was how, before the hurling game had even started and their third date even got going, she had ended up with something that was dangerously close to a pet name. (And after fake-gagging and pulling faces at 'Trubsey and Lilli-pad' for the entirety of the last two years and swearing that she would never be involved in something so inane? Okay, she was a hypocrite, so sue her).

* * *

Half time seemed to come faster than usual. Artemis had proved to be a mix of completely clueless and oddly well-informed (Holly had a sneaking suspicion that he had Wikipedia-d the game before he came, and that that knowledge wasn't translating completely smoothly to an actual game). It meant that she had spent a large amount of time explaining the little peculiarities of the game, and of these teams specifically ("Why doesn't the goalkeeper wear gloves?" "Artemis, to be a hurling goalkeeper you have to be totally crazy, it's just accepted. There was already a big furore when they were forced to wear helmets, no one is going to dare suggest _gloves_." "But he could be seriously injured!" "Oh, lots are. David Fitzgerald lost some of his ring finger in 2007, had it reattached and came back to the field for more. Before helmets, there were a lot more facial fractures, people getting left blind, and so on and people still resisted their introduction. You've got to be insane, remember?"

… "So is it just professional, adult and dangerous egg and spoon race?" "How _DARE_ you?!").

So the first half had passed in a happy blur of sharing of knowledge and watching people hammer each other, and half time soon arrived.

"Do you want me to get you something to eat?" she asked him, when the bell rang. "I'll warn you now, the food is terrible, but it's hot and it fills you up."

"Are you planning to partake?" he asked.

"I didn't have time for breakfast this morning, so I am going to subject my body to an influx of white carbs, fake meat and preservatives, yes."

"Ah, well then, yes, I too would like something. I would have whatever you are having." He reached for his wallet, "How much do you need?"

Holly laughed. "With food this gross I'd be embarrassed to ask for their ridiculously high prices. It's on me, Arty."

The smile he gave her warmed her all the way to the food stall.

* * *

"Your gastric system is not going to know what has hit it. Or be happy about it," said Holly as she passed him an electric blue slushie and a hot dog that was generously smothered with ketchup and mustard. "Also, I hope you like condiments because they're the only way to make the hot dogs half bearable."

Artemis took the proffered food, looking as if he couldn't quite believe he was expected to ingest it. Still, he gamely took an ambitious bite of the hot dog (and part of the napkin). Which promptly squirted vast quantities of red & yellow onto his jacket, white T-shirt and jeans. The reach of the condiments were almost impressive. Artemis himself looked mildly horrified, both at the taste of what had made it into his mouth and the condition of his clothes. Holly dabbed at it ineffectively with some of the mound of paper napkins she had brought, but long experience said that that was a stain that was never coming out.

"I feel sorry for whoever does your washing," she said, as she gave up spreading the stain further over his shirt.

"Mmm," he agreed, taking a thankfully spill-free sip of his slushie. He then pulled a face which was only partially due to the taste and brain freeze from the drink. "What makes you think I don't do my own laundry?"

"Um…" How could she politely say 'privilege is leaking out of your every pore' and 'you give off a bit of a posh mummy's boy vibe'? "Oh, I don't know," she finally settled on, "you just seemed the type to have someone do your washing for you."

He choked a little and she wasn't sure if it was some gristle in the hot dog or what she'd just said. Maybe both. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you went to an all-boys boarding school and refer to your Dad as 'Father'. Also, have you _seen_ the car you drive? Most people have to save up until their midlife crisis to afford one of them."

"And all of that is… a negative thing?"

"Well, not necessarily but it can be." Holly looked at him. He was looking genuinely worried, a little frown between his eyebrows. The effect was somewhat ruined by the smears of ketchup and mustard on his chin, but it was still endearing. She sat back on the bench and looked at her hands. "Look, I dated this one guy for a long while who had some money. He wasn't a billionaire or anything, but he had a lot more than anyone at the academy. Had a rich daddy who I think made up for a lack of love with a lot of money." She grinned ruefully, "You can already hear the problems, right? Anyway, he was used to hearing yes and that lent him a certain sense of entitlement and possessiveness which… it wasn't great in a relationship. He… didn't treat me well. It was just after my Mum had died, and long after Dad so I didn't have any parents at all looking out for me and I was just a lot more vulnerable and willing to put up with his crap. Anyway, it was a bit of a toxic relationship and it only ended when Trouble punched his lights out when he overheard him being… not great." She paused, suddenly very conscious that this was perhaps not third date material. Or tenth. Perhaps twentieth? "Anyway," she said brightly, "It just means that I'm a bit more suspicious of people, especially those who've had life a whole lot easier than most, but you seem to have been okay so far. Despite the fancy car." She gave him a little nudge and smile, showing him that it was all fine.

He still looked serious. "I-" he said, and then he was the one looking down at his hands. "I haven't, my life hasn't completely been… a 'whole lot easier than most'."

"…Oh?"

He was still looking down, talking to his hands. "My father… wasn't there for a period of time, when I was a little younger." He looked up suddenly, "Not metaphorically, you understand, he would have been there if he could. He was…disappeared." Back to looking down, "I had to take over the family business for a couple of years. It was… not easy." He seemed to run out of steam suddenly then. "I- ah, just wanted you to know that I haven't got a complete sense of entitlement."

"Oh, that's, um, good to know." How do you respond to something like that? "Thank you for telling me."

There was silence for a bit, as Holly spun through a mental list of possible conversation topics she could go to after something like that. Then she gave up, bopped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey, at least we're getting the tragic backstory out of the way early, right? I mean, could be worse. I once went on a blind date and the ticket seller was my date's ex and, long story short, he ended up going to see the film with her and I ended up third wheel on my own date with no ride home."

He smiled then, and then the next half of the match was starting and they could move on to lighter topics. The rest of the date was spent in lighthearted bickering over players and tactics, although in the back of her mind Holly was quietly pleased at his confiding in her.

* * *

Artemis had to be the most cultured twenty-something Holly had ever known. He had called her up that Friday evening and asked her to a performance of Brahms' Requiem in Christ Church Cathedral Dublin for the following Thursday. She'd accepted, and at around seven-thirty she heard his car pulling up into the drive.

It was a beautiful evening, cool and clear, and Holly found herself looking forward to the evening. Her appreciation of classical music was pretty much restricted to film soundtracks, but there was something about spending the evening in a Cathedral listening to it live (and next to a not unattractive man) that seemed, although it physically pained her cheese-averse heart to admit it, quite romantic.

Parking was the usual ordeal. "How much did you have to pay to pass your test?" Holly asked, only half-joking, as he narrowly avoided another (stationary) car and a stone flowerpot as he reversed in.

His laughter seemed a little nervous, and he didn't reply.

(How long do you have to be going out with someone before you were allowed to drive their (very nice and powerful) car? Holly wondered. Was it a shorter length of time if you were far better qualified than him and you had some not insignificant concerns about his safety behind the wheel?)

They made it inside with a bit of time to spare, and found seats in the middle of the crowd. She looked around, appreciating the architecture and doing a bit of people-watching while waiting for it to start, and noticed a large figure standing under the arch.

"Hey, Arty, that looks like Butler over there," she said.

"Where?" he said, looking up from his perusal of the programme.

But when she turned back, the figure that she'd seen had disappeared. "Oh, never mind," she said. "I thought I saw someone but they've gone. Weird."

"Yes, that is strange," Artemis agreed.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Artemis hissed.

"Oh, just thought I'd pop out and get some culture since my usually rather controlling employer has given me the evening off."

"I am on a _date_."

"Oh, so we've moved past the denial stage now, have we?"

"I would appreciate a little _privacy_."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have given Showbiz Ireland information on your whereabouts tonight."

"Excuse me?"

"Your little tirade on how culture is dying and how you expected a half-full room at the Requiem performance you were going to be attending did not go unnoticed. It's a sold-out concert tonight."

Artemis passed a hand over his face. "Are you able to distract them?"

"Well, I did take the liberty of spreading a rumour that it was next week's performance you would be attending, so there are only a handful here that didn't get the memo. I should be able to keep them out of your way, at least until after the performance. Try to leave by the side door if you can. I'm getting too old for rugby tackles and high-speed chases."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good." Butler turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stalled him.

"Thank you, old friend."

He smiled, "It's no problem. Also, don't get too lost in the music this time."

Artemis looked at him indignantly, "Holly is far more interesting than Josephine ever was. Besides," he said ruefully, "Holly is far less shy about poking me in the side if she thinks I'm not paying enough attention to her."

* * *

The performance was impressive (Artemis had commented in the interval that he found the interpretation a 'little lacking in emotion' but Holly had no such highfalutin ideals. The music swelled and fell around them most grandly and the conductor's face displayed the widest range of expressions she had seen since she watched Trouble get the car of his dreams, crash it, find out that insurance would cover it, discover that his leg was broken and he was banned from sports for months, and then finally meet the latest "love of his life" all within the space of half an hour, so she was well satisfied.)

That was probably helped by the fact that about fifteen minutes in she had started to shiver. Not a lot, but the high vaulted ceiling and stone walls and floor made it decidedly chilly, and she was only wearing a little black cardigan (over the first dress, again. If her tiny wardrobe was such an issue, that was his problem and she wasn't going to spend any more time in front of her mirror agonising over it. Plus, the new dress Lilli had persuaded her to buy was just Not Appropriate for a Requiem). He'd already gone through the whole rigmarole of 'oh, my arm just happens to be along the back of your chair even though it's a wooden bar and horrendously uncomfortable and oh look now I'm kind of holding you how strange' so had apparently noticed the shiver. Then they'd gone through a whole process of 'take my jacket-no I can't take your jacket you'll freeze-but you'll freeze if you don't-why don't we share it?' in muted hand gestures and whispers, and ended up with the article of clothing draped across both their backs. It was so teenagers on a first date that Holly felt contact embarrassment.

But that cosiness had contrasted with the cool air of the church and the imposing music that filled the air and gave her the delightful feeling of being very snug in an otherwise uncomfortable environment.

The entire Requiem lasted for well over an hour, so Holly wasn't too ruffled when the moment the final note had sounded Artemis had gone from lazy-eyed and lost in the music to almost falling over himself to leave. It had been a bit out of character for him to grab her and his jacket and almost drag her out the building (and not even out of the entrance they had come from) but she figured that maybe he had seen someone he really didn't want to stop and chat with. Or maybe he wanted to catch the special-screening of a late night hurling match (Foaly was recording it for her).

As they were pulling away there was a flash and a click from somewhere behind them.

"What was that?" Holly said.

"Promotional pictures?" said Artemis, whose brow was furrowed with the effort of trying to exit the parking lot unscathed.

"Oh," she said, and then didn't speak until they passed a pub that announced in large letters that it was screening the match. "Um… Arty?" she said. "Are you in a hurry to get home?"

* * *

Artemis wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up in a backwater pub watching a hurling match and drinking vast quantities of Guinness with a group of about thirty other people decked out in hurling regalia and in various stages of inebriation, but he was having an uncommonly good time.

A red-head with a million watt smile slipped under his arm. "Here's your pint, Arty. What's the score?"

Oh, yes. That was how.

* * *

So now they were official. Or something very much like it (Holly still hadn't worked up the courage to ask the cringe-worthy question of "so, like, are you my boyfriend now or what?" so she was going on pure deduction). They called each other and spoke about their day. He took her to the theatre and museums and gave her his opinions on art and philosophy and she took him to swing dance classes and ice-skating and tried to improve his coordination a little (the endeavour was utterly hopeless, but she was enjoying the attempts far too much to give up). It felt too flawless. As if they were in an American chick-flick and were living through the part with the montage and the happy background track. Holly was bracing for finding out that he had incurable cancer or was possibly her long-lost brother or something.

It was partly that feeling of precariousness that had kept her from introducing him to her friends, and partially a desire to keep him to herself. She was enjoying herself in a way she hadn't done in a very long time. He was completely different to anyone she had dated before, or possibly anyone she had ever met. Razor-sharp and slightly irascible in a way she sometimes found endearing and sometimes whacked him over the back of his head for. Sarcastic, with the same dry humour as Holly herself and yet he could be more than a little sentimental. Basically, Holly was in danger of falling a little too hard (Only in danger? her inner voice questioned) and she was trying to keep him and the rest of her life a little separated as a defence mechanism. It wouldn't hurt that badly when it inevitably crashed and burned if it only affected a part of her life, right?

* * *

"So when are you going to bring this girl of yours home for us to meet her, Arty?"

A delicate choke on a Parisian potato. "How do you know there's a girl, father?"

A fond laugh. "Oh it's obvious from your demeanour that you're besotted."

A sceptical look. Held.

"...Butler might have mentioned something to us the other day."

"I see." A poorly disguised glare directed to the side of the room. Some nervous shifting from foot-to-foot by a weighty party.

"Well, Arty? When will we meet the lucky lady?"

"Erm… I'm not entirely certain." _Whenever I get over this accursed and irrational insecurity as to the depths of her feelings for me._ "Perhaps when she next gets a holiday? She's extremely busy."

"I see. Well, don't let us wait too long. Your mother and I are very curious as to the woman that can hold your interest! By all accounts she seems very nice."

"She's" _diverting and opinionated and captivating in a completely unconscious manner and passionate about the oddest things and the strength of my own feelings is both terrifying and intriguing to me,_ "nice, yes."

* * *

"Holl-eee. Puh-leeease."

"You know how Root is about giving friends free drinks. Cough up, Trubs, or get out."

With a noisy sigh, Trouble Kelp pulled out his wallet. "What do you want, Lilli-pad?"

Not even glancing up from her phone she said "Half-decaf, extra-large, one pump sugar-free vanilla, nonfat, 180-degrees, 235-gram cappuccino."

Holly rolled her eyes. "For the last time, Lilli, we are not Starbucks."

"More's the pity."

It was fortunate that at that moment Lilli's attention was fully caught by her mobile phone's screen, so she missed Holly miming strangulation at Trouble, who just grinned and shrugged his shoulders in a 'What can you do, isn't she just the most adorable thing _ever_?' manner.

The door opened, and Fred 'Foaly' O'Ley rushed in. "Sorry I'm late Holly, there was this practical in the lab and I was trying to finish it off and time got away from me and–"

"Don't worry about it," Holly cut him off, already pulling off her apron. "Thanks so much for covering for me."

Five minutes later, she was changed and striding back to the counter. "Let's go," she said to Trouble, but he was in a corner with the other two having a hushed conversation and didn't hear.

"What is it?" she said impatiently. "We're already late, let's get going."

"You will _never_ guess who just walked in," said Lilli. "Artemis Fowl the Second!"

"Artemis?" Holly said, glancing over to his usual corner table where he was now sitting. He must have come in while she was changing. "What about him?"

"You _know_ him?" Lilli said, eyes wide.

Feeling suddenly defensive, she said, "I know his coffee order."

Foaly was borderline hyperventilating. "Artemis Fowl the _Second_ came— no, _comes_ into the place that _I_ work part-time at."

"Erm, who is he exactly?" said Holly.

"Only a total genius who pretty much singlehandedly revolutionised electrical engineering and proved a ridiculous number of theories and is son to the owner of one of the biggest tech companies currently operating," Foaly gabbled. "He's _amazing_ ," he added with a sigh.

"Plus, he's Ireland's hottest, richest bachelor," Lilli added. "At least, according to the mags."

Holly looked over at Artemis doubtfully. "Are you sure that _this_ guy is _that_ guy?"

Lilli let out an exasperated huff. " _Yes_. How have you never heard of him?"

"Well, Electronics Weekly and gossip magazines aren't really my thing, you know that."

"Here, look." Lilli was rummaging through her oversized bag, eventually coming out with a slightly rumpled glossy magazine. "It's somewhere in here…aha."

Holly took the proffered magazine, and was confronted with the headline 'IRELAND'S H.R.B A BACHELOR NO MORE?" accompanied by a photo of a gorgeous, blonde Eurasian girl, who had her arm linked through his. Holly scanned the article. Apparently he was a chess grandmaster, knew an impossible number of languages and had been voted the smartest person in Europe (How do you even decide on something like that? the part of her mind that wasn't reeling wondered).

Something small and tight and sad twisted in Holly's stomach. Of course it was too good to last. Of course.

"Do you mind if I borrow this?" she asked Lilli.

"Uh, sure? Oh, and there's an article on beginner's makeup that you might be interested in, at the back…"

She trailed off, as Holly had marched off, angling straight for Artemis Fowl the Second's table. Lilli, Trouble and Foaly watched as she calmly, ever so calmly, walked over to his side and slid the picture in front of him.

"Kind of a sucky way to find out who your boyfriend really is, huh?"

His blue eyes, now so familiar, met hers. "Holly, it's not like that, Juliet's an old family friend and—"

Holly cut him off. "I know who Butler's younger sister is, you've shown me pictures." She breathed in and out. Mastery of her emotions had never been her strong suit. "I thought you were just a nobody university student with a pretentious coffee order."

"I never said anything, you merely assumed—"

"You didn't correct me. I didn't realise you were a _genius millionaire_ , I just thought you were lazy about going to lectures, a bit cocky and came from a family with a bit more money than usual. Honestly, I'd already prepared for holding your hand when you failed at the end of the year."

"It was just easier that way, you don't—"

"Right, of course, it was easy to just sit back and let me tell you everything about myself while you told me nothing about you."

"You know far more about me than most people."

"And yet I somehow managed to miss out on the parts the entire world knows?" ( _I'd planned our children's names_ she did not say).

"That is a slight exaggeration," he said in an infuriatingly calm manner. "Holly, can we please just discuss this rationally—"

There were few sentences in the English language that could ignite Holly's anger like that. Ben had told her over and over to be 'rational' and look where that got her. On a first-name basis with A&E staff. But there were enough people unashamedly gaping already and she didn't want to prolong this. Rip the plaster off. "You're not even sorry," she said. "You played me for an idiot, and you don't feel anything." She breathed out and said, "Goodbye."

Then she walked out of the shop without looking back.

(It was really dramatic. She wished she cared about him less so she could appreciate the moment more.)

* * *

The next day there was a knock at her door (She should never have told him that her bell didn't work). Holly shut it in his face.

* * *

Another knock the next day.

* * *

And the next.

* * *

Holly stopped coming to her door.

(She spied on him out of the upper window instead. It felt terribly tragical.)

* * *

"Trouble in paradise, Artemis?"

"Kindly mind your own business, Butler, hmmm?"

* * *

Another day, another knock. But this time, the door opened.

Artemis's eyes widened comically as if he couldn't quite believe he was looking at a person and not a door. He recovered quickly though, and asked, "May I come in?"

"No."

He breathed in and out heavily, then clasped his hands in front of what she now recognised as a very expensive suit (it had… folds and stuff… okay, she had looked him up and found a 'What is he wearing?!' article with prices).

"My father is Artemis Fowl the First."

"I know, I googled you. Also, apparently you have a net worth higher than that of a small country. Amazing what you can find out online in one night and not discover in person, um, ever."

He continued on, as if she hadn't spoken. "He runs a company called-"

"Fowl Industries, I _know_."

"Yes. From birth it has been assumed that I will rise up and take the mantle from him-"

"You're going to blame this on Daddy Issues, really?"

"No, I have no cause to complain in that regard- I enjoy the business and am talented in what pertains to it. However, with that, and my intelligence came certain expectations. To put it plainly, I am accustomed to being wanted for what I signified and not who I was."

"Oh cry me a river, 'I was just _too_ smart and _too_ rich.'"

"Will you _please_ just let me finish?"

Holly scowled but, aware she was perhaps being a little unfairly belligerent, motioned impatiently for him to continue.

"Before I met you, I overheard the only girl I had ever loved saying, ad verbatim, 'If not for his house and money I would have been gone long ago.' Around the same time my mother became increasingly enthusiastic about me having a 'normal' teenage experience and I was duly packed off to university. Then I met you, and you didn't care about any of that."

"I wasn't _told_ any of that."

"Be that as it may, you were someone who didn't know the first thing about me, but still seemed interested. Also you were friendly and pretty and interesting and just… captivating."

"Captivating," said Holly sceptically. "Right."

(She was softening, just a little, but he didn't need to know that)

"Is there a problem with my choice of words? I- er, I meant it. Erm, all of it, actually. You really have enriched my life greatly, and I have enjoyed these past few months more than I thought I ever could. I had… hopes of it continuing for some time. Of course, I would've told you about my circumstances, but I was waiting for an opportune moment to do so. I am sincerely sorry that you had to find out the way that you did."

(Holly's stomach was aiming for Gold in Olympic Gymnastics. Her face looked as if it had no idea that this award-winning performance was taking place. She ignored her stomach.)

"There are three types of people who use excessive compliments," said Holly. "Liars, cheats and dudes who write the bad kind of poetry. Excuse me if I don't believe you."

She made as if to close the door, but he just stepped in slightly. "I- erm, have written some bad poetry in my time."

She halted. "You have?"

He smiled, his boyish smile, and stepped a little closer. "Truly terrible."

"Oh really?"

"Butler brings out some samples every now and again and does dramatic readings to Juliet."

"Proof or it didn't happen," she said, then recovering herself drew herself up and said. "Look, I'm not completely unreasonable. I understand why you might accidentally-on-purpose 'forget to mention' some details about your life on the first date. But we've been seeing each other for over four months now, and I feel like I barely know you. That's more than a slight omission, it's a major lie. I can't trust someone like that."

Again, she made to shut the door, and this time somehow found him on the inside with her door shut behind him. (In the back of her mind, she wondered what he thought about her grimy hallway with the cracks running down one side and the fine fur of mould on the other. At least she'd cleaned up a bit (it wasn't like she'd spent a large portion of time the night before planning the whole 'opening the door' or anything). Then she berated herself for caring at all.)

"I should not have acted in the manner I did," he said. "I am truly very sorry."

Holly considered. "I see. It's just—" she sighed. "Like I said when I _bared my heart to you_ I've dealt with a person I couldn't trust in a relationship before and it was not fun. And when I had my friends explaining to me who you were and what you've done and where you've been… it just felt like I was taking a huge step back in that direction. And it wasn't an enjoyable feeling, thinking I'd been taken in by this… persona of yours, while all the time you were actually this bigshot somebody that my friends all knew about and I didn't."

He stepped even closer, and locked eyes with her. "They know the person the media wants me to be. You know me."

She gave it a good five seconds and then she couldn't help herself, she laughed. "Wow, Arty, that was seriously cheesy."

The serious moment cracked to be replaced by something lighter. Artemis was blushing, and Holly was smiling and the hard sad feeling in her stomach was loosening its grip.

"Could we possibly try again?" Artemis asked her, eyes big and blue and terribly earnest. "I have genuinely missed you this past week, more than I thought possible. Butler started singing dirges about young love accompanied by his out-of-tune accordion. It's been an all-around awful experience."

Holly dipped her head, then smiled. The tight feeling in her stomach unraveled and she could breathe easy. "Okay," she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. "Let's try this again."

Artemis stuck a hand out in front of him.

Holly shook it gingerly, a bit confused. This wasn't exactly the physical gesture she had expected to come after her last statement.

"Hello, my name is Artemis Fowl the Second."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Would you like to come in properly and we can talk more over coffee?"

Artemis smiled. "I would like that very much."

 _Fin_

* * *

 **I wrote most of this whopper of a one-shot in my first term of starting sixth-form, on the train journey there and back. I finally have written it up and finished it two years later, now having finished A Levels and just finished my first term of university. It feels like there's a metaphor in there somewhere and I'm not sure why. Perhaps because so much has happened in the interim, and if all goes well in a few years' time people will trust me with their health and yet I'm still here, writing cheesy Artemis Fowl fanfiction like I did when I was 13 years old. (Oh, and still having great fun while doing so). Thanks for reading, and any reviews are much appreciated.**

 **Disclaimers:  
** **-I don't know anything about coffee, except sort of how to make it for other people, so all the drinks come from the internet (ie Lilli's drink is a verbatim quote).  
** **-All my knowledge about hurling comes from** _ **Benny and Omar**_ **by Eoin Colfer, the Wikipedia page and this link:** **www** _ **DOT**_ **slate** _ **DOT**_ **com/articles/sports/sports_nut/2011/04/the_craziest_men_in_sports** _ **DOT**_ **htmlx`  
** **I also watched a couple of YouTube videos, to whom the 'adult egg and spoon race' comment can be accredited. (Hurling is INTENSE man. I want someone to take me to a match. Also, I want to visit Ireland again.)  
** **-The concert date originated in me sitting in Ely Cathedral freezing in a little black dress and teensy cardigan so thanks to ill-heated school concerts for your reading pleasure.  
** **-I found this comment: 'He just asked what my fav pastry to recommend is and then just handed it to me and I was having such a bad day' on a customer service website and I thought it was cute so ta dah here it is in the story.  
** **-I borrowed the title from another coffee shop AU fanfic because I just thought it was v cute but when I went back to try and find it I found lots of other fics with the same name but not the one I read so I unfortunately can't give credit. Song is Carly Simon, and words in the summary are Avril Lavigne.  
** **-I also have forgotten virtually all the grammar I ever learnt so was punctuating mostly blind and by feel so if you spotted any glaring errors please feel free to correct me (I know I was a bit too enthusiastic with the commas and brackets but we're going to pretend that it was a stylistic choice).**

 **Once again, thank you for reading and your thoughts are very welcome.**


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